


Allen's Score

by erik_lehnsherr



Series: The Fourteenth's Song [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10703730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erik_lehnsherr/pseuds/erik_lehnsherr
Summary: "The score belongs to Allen."





	Allen's Score

**_“Allen must play; the score belongs to Allen.”_ **

_Thirty-five years before_

Music drifted through the estate, catching the attention of the young man securely buried in the residential library. His gray eyes strayed from the book he was enraptured in, staring towards the door, which hid the source of the music. This young man was Allen Marian, twenty-year-old Bookman in training, and the vast mansion he had the pleasure to be staying at was the Campbell Estate, belonging to the two future patriarchs of the Noah clan, Mana and Neah Campbell.

Mana was soft spoken, a presence that stirred no notice, although when he pleased it, he showed as brightly as the moon against the fabric of stars. His younger twin brother Neah, the fourteenth Noah, was the exact opposite – a slight musician who demanded the attention of the room as soon as he entered it, his aura as haunting and beautiful as the music he played. Both were talented in their own rights, but only one could draw the Bookman Junior out from his obliviousness to the outside world. Allen pushed himself away from the desk, the chair scraping rigidly against the floor, and with slightly uneasy steps due to his legs having fallen asleep, he leaves the room in search of the resident music genius.

He didn’t have to look far, finding the younger Campbell rooted to the seat of the grand piano that sat in the main room of the mansion, the piano that supposedly belonged to Mana and Neah’s mysterious father. Neah had a pencil in his mouth, and a pad of paper on his lap as his delicate fingers danced along the white and black keys of the piano, singing out a melody like none other that Allen had heard from the Noah. Usually, Neah’s songs were quiet, slowly drawing in the audience. However, this one dragged attention in from the start with its almost mystical sound. Neah continued cautiously plotting out the notes, pausing every once in awhile to jot down notes, then he did something that Allen has certainly never heard.

He began to sing.

_So the little infant fell into a deep sleep, among the gray ashes in the flames shining… first one, then two…_

Enchanted by Neah’s voice for a moment, Allen was jolted out of it by the realization that the lyrics Neah sang were of Allen’s creation – he felt whimsical one day, and decided to write a poem based on his hosts. It seems Neah put music to the poem, but it seemed odd for one who insisted his skills lied in piano, not in vocals, although Allen begged to differ.

Neah continued singing, having found his rhythm, until he got to the end with a final lingering note. He took a breath, then stared down at his notepad until clapping made him jump some. His head whipped over until he locked eyes with the brunette he obviously didn’t notice before. He stood up, the pad dropping to the ground, “Allen? I thought you went out to town with Mana and Cross.”

Allen crossed the room, his hands behind his back, “I decided to stay behind. I got caught up in one of the books of your vast library, and I think Cross got tired of asking me if I was ready.” He paused, then inquired, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

A light red brushed the dark skin of Neah as he diverted his attention away from the brunette, “I can, I just prefer not to. It makes my throat hurt, and plus its much simpler to play the piano than fuss over lyrics.”

“Yet this song was different? Those words came from my poem.”

Allen gauged the reaction of the younger teen in front of him, a feeling of delight striking him as he caught Neah getting redder with his reply, “Yes, the words are from your poem. I thought they were nice, so I decided to write notes out for them.”

He felt touched, yes, but it still didn’t make sense. Neah liked a lot of poems read from the dusty heirlooms of the library, but he’d never written a score to encase them in.

Flustered, Neah continued speaking as he picked up his notepad, “This entire time, I had been using the Ark the hard way, since the only gate is the one in the main house. Then, it came to me while I was sitting in my secret room – I could control the Ark with music. I don’t even know how I learned this. It’s like the Ark told me. Anyway, I needed to write a song, and you thoughtfully provided the lyrics, so now this song, the Musician’s Song, is the one that will control the Ark.”

The inquisitive side of Allen came out as he asked, “Could anyone control it? Even, say, Road?”

Neah shook his head, sitting down on the piano seat, “No one else can control the Ark. It requires my powers as the Musician, and now, this score, which will only be provided by Timcanpy.” Upon mention, the golden golem that Cross had gifted Neah and Mana on their sixteenth birthday came whizzing in, connecting itself to the front of the piano. It opened its mouth, and a imagine came out ; it was a seal circled with strange patterns reminiscent of notes. Neah said, “This is the score. I had to make it look confusing so no one else could read it.”

Allen couldn’t even read the sheet music that littered the piano already, but now with these strange symbols, Allen felt himself get even more confused. Tim closed its mouth, disconnecting from the piano. The Noah spoke more, “Now, I can create more gates. I can control everything about the Ark. I am its master.” He looked back at Allen, then stated, “But it isn’t mine alone. This score belongs to you, Allen.”

Now it was Allen’s turn to flush at the other’s words, “Mine? But-“

“You wrote the words,” Neah said, “So it’s yours. It will always be yours.” He then held his hand out to Allen, a smile gracing his face, “Can I teach you how to play it?”

The older man hesitated, then laid his hand in Neah’s. He allowed Neah to pull him down to sit next to the Noah, then he whispered, “If we must.”

_Thirty-five years later_

**_The shadow watched Allen Walker play the song, singing the lyrics out with a shaky voice. Allen must have imagined what he saw, because he would later think he saw tears running down the black mass of a face, streaking the shadow with discoloration._ **


End file.
